


except that he is

by kihyunskitten



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Canon Divergent, French Fries, M/M, They don't end up together jsyk, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:08:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8243906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kihyunskitten/pseuds/kihyunskitten
Summary: Well, it definitely isn't the worst time travel decision Barry's ever made.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this gifset http://coldsflash.tumblr.com/post/142259414241/coldflash-au-when-barry-went-back-in-time-and-met and me basically being fucking trash thanks

Wind rushes past, as well as whatever the fuck is on the road around him. There’s a newspaper, some broken CDs as well as an old walkman and, wait _what_? Nobody fucking uses walkmans anymore. Barry rushes to the newspaper, staring at it until he registers the year. 1995. Time wraith must have not had time to follow him through here, he registers as he looks around. No distant screams of terror, no angry dementor looking motherfucker.

Barry takes a moment, looking around. Downtown Central City, so he’s not far from home. Well, not _geographically_ speaking, anyways. As far as the time jump goes, he’s learned by now that if he doesn’t wanna ‘pull an Eobard,’ as Cisco called it, he needs to stay in the timeline he’s in for at the very least 36 hours. That’s the minimum, but there’s nothing urgent back home. Still, he can’t find a reason to linger. Not one that goes beyond his empty stomach.

At the rumbling coming from his torso, Barry finally takes in his surroundings some more. There’s a shitty dive to his right, the sign too dark to be made out since it’s nighttime. Whatever. If there’s food, Barry is fucking _game_. He’s glad he isn’t in his Flash attire. Finding clothes is something he doesn’t have time for. Flannel is appropriate for the nineties, right? Right.

Walking into the dive, his eyes almost bug out of his skull. It’s the Saints and Sinners bar. He’s honestly shocked that it’s been around this long, considering the fact that Barry only ever saw one or two patrons inside. They even still have the pool ta- oh. Shit. _Fuck_.

It’s almost impossible to recognize him, giant stupid parka replaced with a bright red and yellow sports jacket. His hair doesn’t have the grey in it, entirely dark brown but still shaved close to his head. Snart’s face is smoother, no wrinkles or smile lines and he looks good. Soft is a word Barry never thought he’d use to describe the guy but, here he fucking is.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the man drawls, leaning over the table to take his shot, looking over his shoulder at Barry, one eyebrow quirked. How the fuck is his _voice_ still like that, what the hell.

An irritated, ‘shut up Snart,’ is at the tip of Barry’s tongue when he realizes that he doesn’t know this guy. Instead, he immediately looks away, a snort coming from the man as Barry can feel himself fucking blush. _God_ , he thought he was over this. Some slight attraction to Len has always been present, but easy to ignore with the constant threat of his identity being put out in the open if anything went wrong.

But _this_ Len, he doesn’t know Barry. He doesn’t know if it’s a relief or a disappointment. Either way, he might as well make conversation while he’s here, right? Right. (He ignores the voice of Wells in his head going ‘ _no_ , what the hell, that’s a terrible idea Barry.’)

“Are you even old enough to be in a bar?” Barry crosses his arms, raising a disapproving eyebrow. The possibility of finally getting to play the age card on Snart is way too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Rolling his eyes, Len places his cue stick against the table, leaning against it as he turns to Barry. He crosses his arms in a similar manner. “I’m twenty three.”

His voice is still way too distracting, but Barry can’t help but smile. “So you’re _barely_ old enough to be here.”

Sighing, and apparently thinking he won’t be able to get back to practicing his billiards, Snart walks over to the bar, sitting on a stool. Barry doesn’t think about how easy it is to follow and sit next to him. “And you, grandpa?” Len says, turning to him and grinning with one side of his mouth. “You gunna card me or what?”

“I’m off duty, so I _guess_ not,” Barry laughs, trying to ignore how fucking easily the banter comes. “So, _kid_ ,” he says it as an inside joke with himself, “what’s your name?”

“Len,” he hums as two shot glasses are put down in front of them. Len downs his own easily, looking to Barry.

“Alcohol does nothing to me,” he says, even as he takes the glass and drinks. The alcoholic buzz lasts for less than a millisecond.

“And what’s your name, grandpa?” Len says it with his eyebrow still raised, and is he not worried that his face is gunna freeze into that position at some point? Ha. _Freeze_.

“Barry,” he says, without realizing the consequences to the timeline or whatever. Barry can’t be that uncommon of a name, maybe? Oh well.

“So, Barry,” Len draws out the word, and _fuck_ how does he still say Barry’s name the same way? It’s not fair. “I haven’t seen you around here before. You new to Central City?”

“Not really,” Barry laughs, “I’m fairly familiar with it, but I’m around visiting for a few days. Family stuff.”

Len makes a face at the mention of family, and Barry can’t really blame him, knowing what Snart’s been through with his dad. “You don’t seem the type to come around here,” he says, gesturing to the dive around them. Somehow, over twenty years in the past, the place doesn’t seem any newer than it did the last time Barry was around. It’s still pretty fucking shitty.

“Was hungry,” Barry replies, realizing he forgot how hungry he was, which is absurd. Then again, Snart is pretty fucking absurd. With a name like that, how can he not be?

Len nods to the bartender, and she disappears behind the counter. She looks like the same person who runs it in 2016, but younger (obviously). Some things never change, apparently. “The fries here are good,” he hums, turning to look at Barry again. His eyes are still piercing. Barry has always felt like those eyes could take him apart without Len even trying.

“I know,” Barry says without thinking, immediately cringing. He shouldn’t have said that, fuck. Immediately, he stumbles over his words, trying to control the damage. “I-I mean, all the fries in Central are good, right? Haven’t met a fry I didn’t like.”

The side eye he gets from Snart is expected, but he doesn’t ask, so that’s a plus. They sit in fairly comfortable silence until the woman comes back from behind the bar with a plate full of fries. Barry is extremely proud of himself for not superspeed-eating the entire plate. These fries are fucking _good_.

The plate is clear, and Len is staring at him with a barely concealed laugh. Feeling like a chipmunk with his cheeks full of food, Barry’s eyes go wide like a deer in headlights. He swallows the food, and looks back to Len. “What?”

The look on Len’s face as he thinks of a response makes Barry nervous. The smile that’s given is even more reason to be nervous. That’s the look Len gets when he’s about to make a really bad-

“Do you really like having your mouth filled up that much?”

-pun.

Barry is glad he doesn’t have food still in his mouth, because otherwise he’s at risk of choking and fucking _dying_. As is, he can feel his cheeks burn bright red, and Len can see it too, if the satisfied smirk is any indication.

The bartender has perfect timing, setting shots down in front of them. Not speeding through drinking both is difficult, but he manages it. His metabolism doesn’t though, the burn is gone as soon as it comes, and Barry is left to contend with Len just fucking saying… _that_.

“Are you hitting on me?” Barry is glad he’s well out of puberty, or else he’d have risked his voice cracking. The pure disbelief in his voice is something he can’t keep out.

Raising an eyebrow again, Len snorts. “Pretty sure that’s the reason innuendos are used, Barry.”

Just barely resisting the urge to bang his head on the table, Barry blushes. Again. Why is Len able to say his name in a way that never fails to make his knees weak? Like, what the fuck. Even across timelines? That’s not possible. Maybe Snart _is_ a meta. Sexy voice powers. Except, this was before the particle accelerator explosion. Fuck. Scrap that theory.

Belatedly, Barry realizes Len is probably waiting for a response that isn’t garbled noises of confusion. “I-I was just, I,” he has no fucking idea what to say, looking around for something to distract himself from being about two minutes away from getting on his knees for Len in the disgusting dive bar bathroom.

“You’re turning scarlet,” Len smiles, the last word rolling off his tongue. That’s ridiculous. Is this a timeless nickname, or what? Barry has to shake his head, looking away again. “You look good in red.”

Trying to find something to say, Barry blurts out, “So do you.” He gestures to Len’s jacket, red and gold. _His_ colors. The thought sends a pleasant tingle down his spine. A tingle that he dutifully ignores, because dammit, Barry isn’t about to do this.

Except that he is. He totally is, and there’s no way to control that, and no way that he wants to. The way Len is looking at him is way too enticing, and hey, Barry has time to kill. At least, having time to kill is the excuse he’ll give himself. It’s better than admitting that he’s wanted to sit on Captain Cold’s dick since before Cisco came up with the nickname.

It’s easy to notice the way Len almost preens at the compliment, and Barry vaguely thinks about how he would spend the rest of his life complimenting the other if they weren’t, well, supposed to be mortal enemies, or whatever. Captain Cold is a nuisance at the worst of times.

At the best of times, he’s an ally as well as major fucking eye candy. The Len in front of Barry now is just as easy on the eyes, and he’s so much obviously _younger_. There’s a spark in his eyes, stronger than the glint that Snart from Barry’s time has. This is a chance to tell him how gorgeous he is, and well, Barry isn’t one to give up on a good opportunity like that.

“Could we go back to your place?” The words are said with a coy bite of the lip. Barry’s been told it’s very attractive, and he’s just hoping it works on Len.

Again, with a raised eyebrow, Len smiles. It’s not like what Barry is used to, the way Len averts his eyes for a shy smile mixed with a smirk. This look is genuine and excited, and it has Barry’s heart beating even faster than usual. “Only if you promise to keep blushing like that.”

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might add mick to this,,, mostly bc i saw a pic of dominic purcell from '97 and jst went hOOOOO daddy but. we shall See.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just posting what i have written of this bc im not gunna be writing more (besides the epilogue ill post directly after this)

They make it back to Len’s place, Barry doing his best to keep from vibrating out of his skin from nerves. He barely registers the apartment, mostly because as soon as they’re inside, Len is pushing Barry up against the door and kissing him, and holy _fuck_.

The kiss is hot, messy and uncoordinated and so fucking perfect Barry has to slump against the door behind him. His arms rest over Len’s shoulders for support as they kiss. It’s fucking filthy, and Barry idly thinks about how he never thought his first kiss with Len would be like this.

Not that he would ever admit to having thought about it at all, but he always sort of thought if it ever _did_ happen, it would be soft, maybe. Something after Barry tells him about how he can be more than Captain Cold. He imagined the tension leaving Len’s shoulders, the two of them kissing until they couldn’t breathe. It’s nothing like this.

This is desperate, horny one-night-stand kissing. The thought sends a slight pang of a hurt through Barry’s chest. He’s always known he wants to have sex with Len. There’s not a time he hasn’t looked at the man under the parka and thought, _yes_ , absolutely. Even before the parka become a non-negotiable part of Snart’s ice villain aesthetic.

In the back of Barry’s mind, he can’t help but realize he’s always wanted more. More than just kissing, more than heated glances exchanged between really bad puns. The thought is especially greedy in this instance, because _this_ Len is just a kid. 

But Barry can’t try for more, because that wouldn’t be fair, would never be fair to Len. Not that any of this is fair to him. Barry isn’t totally sure if when he goes back to his own time _his_ Len will remember this, or if this time jump has created an alternate universe within the multiverse.

It makes his head hurt to think too much about it, and why the  _fuck_ is he thinking when Len is right here? Getting his head back into the kiss, Barry gasps as he pulls away, and Len immediately starts kissing down his neck. _God_ , this kid.

“You make a habit out of taking older men to your apartment, Len?” The seriousness of his tone is undermined by how breathless he is, biting his lip to stifle desperate whines.

“You make a habit of going home with younger men, gramps?” Is the response he gets, chuckled out against the skin of Barry’s neck.

“I asked you first,” Barry says, letting out a whine with his words and pouting for effect.

“Not usually,” Len hums, sucking a mark onto Barry’s skin. Luckily, he’s too preoccupied with making the marks that he can’t see how quickly they’re fading. It’s a little sad actually, Barry would love to be able to look at the marks for the next week and think about this.

“So I’m _special_?” Barry grins, and he feels way too good about that, _especially_ when Len rolls his eyes and snorts.

“Guess so,” is the response before Len comes back up to shut up Barry with a kiss. Which, honestly, is a _fantastic_ fucking idea. It doesn't take long for him to pull away again to grin mischievously at Barry. “You didn't answer my question. Go home with younger guys often, grandpa?”

Refusing to acknowledge his blush, Barry looks away, which Len takes as an invitation to press kisses along his jaw. “I don't usually go home with anyone,” he says, too nervous to come up with any type of lie or witty remark.

“Guess that means I'm special too,” Len says it with a teasing grin, pulling Barry away from the wall and towards the bedroom.


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how this would work timeline wise but, jump forward in time ig

Barry bites his lip, trying to figure out what to say as he paces around. “I just, the time wraiths could’ve chased me anywhere, but it was to that bar in 1995. To you.” He stops, looking at Len, his eyes open and honest and scared. 

Len looks uninterested. “So, what?”

“I think, maybe, just maybe, what if the speed force wanted this? What if it wanted us to be together?”

“Let me get this straight,” Snart rolls his eyes, leaning his elbows on his knees, looking up at the man practically vibrating the soles off his shoes. “You think that your superspeed gods played matchmaker for you?”

“I-I mean,” Barry gulps, standing his ground. “Yeah, yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“You're a fucking idiot, kid. Go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not sorry (i'm not gunna be writing more of this)


End file.
